My first contact with the vagina was by way of a remote viewing. A mate excitedly explained that he had found a stash of discarded “nudie books” in a ditch proximate to a local lorry park. Aged twelve, my curiosity coupled with pulsing pre-pubescent itches made the thought of seeing a naked woman too much of a magnetic pull to refuse, and the location was near to a stream where we could skim stones too – so overall it was a win-win situation!
Opening the well-thumbed educational publication, my eyes were initially drawn to the gorgeous breasts pointing forward with conviction and purpose. But what made my shorts slightly more uncomfortable was my reaction to the downstairs region. The pull of the vagina was Newton-like, and as the gravitational power pulled me in for a closer inspection my
